


Zero Sum Thinking

by mobilisinmobili



Series: Cross My Heart and Hope You Die [7]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Adoption, Ben Daniel's A+ Parenting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Maybe some angst, Mayhaps Some Ouchies, Team as Family, Teenage Rebellion, mostly - Freeform, really though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: Life continued to change and the evils of the world continued to grow, but between it all, he found that for the first time in a long time, reality had finally become...almost, kind..Or.Alex gets adopted, sort of.
Relationships: Ben "Fox" Daniels & Alex Rider, Ben "Fox" Daniels & Tom Harris, K-Unit & Alex Rider, Tom Harris & Alex Rider, Tom Harris & K-Unit
Series: Cross My Heart and Hope You Die [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762225
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Zero Sum Thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaks/gifts).



> Song inspiration challenge fill!  
> Inspo: Don't Let Me Fall - B.O.B

“And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.” - Hanya Yanagihara

* * *

The coffee was cold and tasted a little burnt, but there was no rush so he settled on throwing the mostly untouched mug of disappointment and the scant remainder of the burnt-ish grounds out altogether to start anew. 

It was cold outside, that much he could tell from the saturated blue of the sky peeking out behind the mostly closed blinds in the adjoined living room. 

Cold in a quiet way, thankfully much more rounded and fresh than the typical bitter January weather London. Manageable without turning the heat on all the way, even as the hours began to wane towards the evening. 

He'd missed lunch by four hours, only choosing to drag himself out of the cozy warmth of his heavenly bed out of a misplaced sense of obligation. He hated himself the moment he decided to finally dredge himself up from the conscious-slash-unconscious limbo, and regretted everything terribly when he peeled back the plush duvet, allowing the cold air to hit.

But there he was, in the kitchen wearing yesterday's clothes, dark sweatpants, and a raggedy oversized hoodie from years ago, padding around in his fuzzy socks feeling equally mentally fuzzy. 

It was fatigue beyond just grogginess. A tiredness he just couldn't sleep away, so much as he had tried. 

But that wasn't important at the current moment. The pressing issue was that there were no more coffee beans to grind. He didn't even have the cheap pre-ground stuff he was sure he'd tossed away somewhere in the back of the mostly empty pantry. 

Nothing in the cabinets either, and as expected, the refrigerator brought the same results. 

Of course... Alex sighed, gently pushing the fridge door shut. 

He'd only just returned six days ago, and between debriefing with Jones and drafting what would be a _painfully_ long report. And now that he remembered, he _hadn't_ actually stopped to grab any groceries when he’d finally gotten discharged, living off of the small supply of instant noodles and protein shakes he hadn’t actually remembered he’d had.

Hell, in all honesty, he hadn't even unpacked, leaving his small duffle on his office desk next to the small mountain of paperwork Ben had been kind enough to drop off. He knew he really needed to get back to settling in, but it was one of many, too many, things to check off on the endless list and in all honesty, he was just too tired for that. 

He was injured. Not as far as to sideline him for long, but enough to warrant a solid three weeks of health leave.

He could still feel it now, pulsating from his hip to run down his legs in tandem, lighting up his nerve endings in merciless spikes. Everything just hurt, and for the nth time since he'd returned home, he debated calling it in.

It wasn't the first time, of course. The years made him a seasoned veteran in terms of post-mission fatigue. But this time, be it from age or something equally appalling, everything hurt just that much more. 

Like a low-grade fever all throughout his body. 

He should call Ben. 

But as fast as the thought appeared, it vanished, dragged down by the resigned disappointment at the lack of food. It was only four, so a quick grocery run was more than plausible, but the thought of having to step out into the chilly street seemed less and less appealing as his temples throbbed a new painful pattern. 

"Okay." He sighed, setting the mug down in the sink, closing the opened cabinet above it. And with one last long-suffering sigh, he padded back to the cool pitch black safety of his room shutting the door closed with a quiet click.

* * *

It was nearing three in the morning. 

He was sure of it. 

The sudden wide-eyed heart-stopping return to the land of consciousness proceeded by the first few sharp stabs of pain down his lower body only cemented the fact. He knew this because three-ish in the early morning was the time the pain had decided on for the past few days. 

While the pain in the day time was unpredictable, debilitating at random hours of the day even _with_ the pills, there was order and consistency to the pain at three.

Preceded by the same rude awakening that made him genuinely consider just burning off his nerve endings altogether. Maybe he could grab Dr. Three’s attention; if the man was even still alive, to begin with.

Of course, late morning medicated _Agent_ Rider knew it was a _terrible_ idea, but three am Alex's mind was groggy with hellish pain that made logical thinking a little hard. 

Which was why he wasted no time in dragging himself out of bed, out of his room through the darkness of the living room into the bathroom, squinting painfully at the harsh lights, forgoing closing the door.

With Tom off at uni and mostly casual and spaced out notices from Ben, he was alone in the new flat which allowed him space to relax. At least, as far as he could bring himself to. And as _relieved_ he’d felt when he finally realized he could let his guard down, just a little, he couldn’t completely ignore the alarms that had been going off when he got back. He was crossing the threshold of ‘relaxed’ into ‘reckless’. But as much as it _terrified_ him, he couldn’t muster the energy to give it the care it deserved.

To bring himself to where he needed to be.

Especially in his hazy state.

It was dangerous. 

But for now, he couldn’t say he really cared. 

He opened the medicine cabinet with practiced ease, leaning heavily against the sink as he fished the bottle out with a shaky hand. He wasted no time in prying the bottle open, shaking a few pills into his waiting palm. 

A few more than he knew was prescribed, but that wasn't important because he just needed it _now._ The doctor's orders had no place in the panicked need. Especially not now when he felt white-hot _knives_ in his very bones. 

It was only two. Maybe three. Or something like that. 

He'd be fine so as long as he took them _now_.

Washed them down with the ice-cold two water of the white porcelain sink that had spots dancing in front of his vision. 

He stood, leaning heavily on the sink with a vice grip along the sides until he felt the pain receded. The edge became blunted and for the first time since he'd awoken, he _didn’t_ feel like he was going to vomit or pass out. He could finally _breathe_.

 _God_.

He took a deep breath before returning the bottle and closing the cabinet, bracing himself for the worst part.

Bleary brown eyes and somewhat sunken cheeks. 

He looked sick.

He _was_ sick, and it _showed_ and he _hated_ it. 

Hated this part of his day, having to look in the mirror only to realize he couldn't look himself in the eye. 

It brought about a wave of exhaustion which in turn had him reaching for the bottle behind the toothbrush holder. 

A pitiful routine that he'd become a little _too_ comfortable with a little _too_ quickly.

It had been a little more than a week and he wasn't coping well.

He _couldn_ 't. 

Not with the lingering stress and guilt that had hit him after the absolute _shit show_ that had been Morroco. 

He'd overestimated how much his body could take during the last leg, lying through the pain instead of tapping out as he should have. And L-Unit, poor L-Unit had to deal with the aftermath, dragging his barely coherent hysterically in pain self back to base for debriefing only to find that an earlier collision he’d successfully hid had managed to collapse part of his femur which had splintered, not _all_ the way through but enough to chip.

The only reason he had made it so far was from the steady consumption of straight Percocet he’d managed to get his hands on sometime during his week-long disappearance. They had kept the pain at bay just long enough to _recklessly_ complete all the objectives only to witness everything come crashing down the moment he handed over the reins. 

But by that point, he was _far_ too gone from the pain to be able to do anything. 

The exhausted anger hit when he _properly_ woke up, comfortably sedated but able to keep awake. They'd sent K-Unit over from convoy duty to break the news of the failed status and the... _collateral_ . And then they packed him off on the first flight back to London, leaving him to sort through the headache of reports from the units to figure out what the _hell_ had happened and to try and find any way to salvage the mess. 

There _wasn't_. 

And when he landed, Ben was there to deliver him directly to St. Doms where he sat stony-faced as the x-rays came out showing what looked like a fracture on his left femur and a bone bruise on his hip amongst other injuries...

Both _equally_ painful and further aggregated by the fact that pushed on like a madman.

Ben hadn't even yelled. Took one look at the x-rays and notes and drove the younger spy home in silence, and that was all Alex needed to know just how royally fucked he was...

He took one last deep calming breath, shutting off the tap he forgot he'd left running and shut off the lights before limping back to the cold dark solace of his room.

* * *

It took Ben all of ten days total before he put his foot down and took action. He knew Alex, and he knew that the blond wasn’t doing well. That much was obvious from the _godawful_ facade of normalcy Alex tried and mostly failed, to keep up whenever Ben came around to visit after giving him a week’s worth of privacy and space. The first time was enough to be excusable.

It really only _had_ been a handful after all.

And with the number of drugs that were probably running laps around in his veins was understandable. But by day three, ten days back, Ben had seen enough. He didn’t need any further explanation or time. The sudden late-night request to crash at his place had been _easily_ accepted, almost mindlessly which had set off alarm bells, to begin with. But Ben did as he had planned and he staked out in the guest room down the hall and got to witness the unsettling and _problematic_ predicament of what looked to be a _concerningly_ routine three AM episode of a pain-filled rushing to the countless but familiar bottles followed by a hazy stress-filled attack on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. 

Privacy and the younger spy’s pride be damned, he’d seen enough. Which was how he came to pull a shaking, sobbing, _~~lethal agent~~_ teenager into his lap, hugging tight as he rubbed calming circles and whispering encouragements until Alex managed to drift back asleep, too exhausted and stressed to realized just who it was who was holding him together on the bathroom floor at ten past three already working out the logistics of what was going to change.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using parts of a fic I'd previously posted but took down because it fit so well, so the first part may seem a little familiar but it's going to be a VERY different fic from what it had been.  
> ___  
> The quote in the beginning is COMPLETELY unrelated to the story itself as it's from an actual book "A little Life" (Which I HIGHLY recommend) which has a wildly different message behind the quote itself, but I love it so there it is!~


End file.
